


Case 133: The Adventure Of The Two Clansmen (1895)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [169]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Boats and Ships, Clothing Kink, Destiel - Freeform, Gay Sex, Inheritance, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Scotland, Seasickness, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 07:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17382161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ A dying chieftain in the Outer Hebrides reaches out to Sherlock in an attempt to secure his clan's future. Except that there is a bit of a problem....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Centaurlips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centaurlips/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

When one considers the horrors of humanity that I have faced in my time, I do not know why I was so affected by the _'Friesland'_ case. Possibly it was because it followed so soon after my brush with death in a Kentish mine and my emotions were still a little raw, because thereafter I became even more focussed on life (and of course John) than ever before.

I knew my love so well by now and he had doubtless expected for me to wake up the morning after the resolution of the sinking determined to put the matter behind me, as I was usually wont to do. But the foul actions of those of my own blood had resolved me to so what I really should have done a long time before, and I insisted that same day on our going to Mr. Martinson and drawing up our wills, leaving all we had (save a few personal possessions of John's which he had promised to his brother Samuel and a bequest that I wished to bestow on my Boys' Home) to each other. I was perhaps a little more vigorous than usual with John that evening and he may just possibly have had an allergic reaction to the dust in the room (or so he said) but he held me and loved me as always. I so did not deserve that man.

John determined to remain close to me and told his surgery that 'a family emergency' precluded him from coming into work for the next few weeks. I needed him now more than ever and I remember that I reacted quite badly when he went down to talk to Mrs. Singer one time, which was foolish of me. My useless brother Bacchus had come round again two days after that fateful meeting but I had flatly refused to see him and John forcibly inserted himself in the doorway to prevent his entrance. He had slunk away back to whichever hole he had crawled out of, unfortunately I might add as I had not had time to find my gun.

(Yes, John did offer to take it and go shoot him but Mother might then have been Mildly Irritated, or as my sister Anna called, it a Level One).

News of my state of mind of course got around and two days after my brother's unwelcome re-appearance my mother and father returned from the Continent. I only knew about this because Anna contrived to 'accidentally bump into John at the local post office' (quite impressive as her then house was the other side of the Thames!) and to inquire after me. She and I had always got on well but John, who was more of a mother-hen than ever before at this time, told her in all honesty that he did not think that I was up to receiving visitors and especially family. I evinced little interest at the news; the following day a telegram arrived asking me to come to the family home to which I sent back a single word reply, 'No'. 

John did smile as he told me that my mother's return had had Consequences (capital letter required) for some people. She had been Seriously Displeased (a Level Six) at her elder sons' actions and although Mycroft and Bacchus had wisely found some 'urgent business' that had necessitated their leaving town for a while, she had caught up with Ranulph and decked him – at a court ball in front of the Queen herself! The villain had had to endure being splashed across the front page of the _'Times'_ and I had had precisely zero sympathy for the rat. Indeed, I later learned that he had encountered further problems that may or may not have been caused by friends and associates of mine, which was all well and good.

It was fortunate also that I had another case so soon, and one which required me to be away from the capital. Far, far away.

֍

I felt for poor John as he leaned over the side of our boat moaning piteously. This had to be the Good Lord's oft-quoted sense of humour at work after he had remarked in our last case that he was glad he himself had been spared a sea-passage. And here were were less than a week later having to make a journey of several hours as the little steamer ploughed its way out to the Scottish Western Islands and John's last meal ploughed its way down the sides of said steamer.

A telegram requesting our most urgent assistance had arrived from Garry Castle in Inverness-shire the previous evening and we had just been able to make the night sleeper, even if we had not actually gotten much sleep. It was all totally John's fault; two days earlier he shown me a picture from a catalogue he had picked up of a gentleman's swimming-costume and observed that it had to qualify as one of the ugliest inventions ever. I had responded by suggesting how not even that would stop me taking the man I loved, and he had made that most beautiful whine of his that he came out with whenever he was truly aroused. A costume had duly been obtained the next day and.... let us just say it had not survived to see Glasgow! Still I could always order another one. Or three.

I had felt a little better as we had continued north-west. And I may perhaps have felt just a trifle smug related to someone's dazed expression as he had sat opposite me as our train wended its way to Oban and the boat to points west. Unfortunately during that fairly short journey the weather had turned exceptionally bad and while I would not normally have subjected the man I loved to a rough sea-crossing, the telegram had expressed a strong degree of urgency so reluctantly we had had to press on. But I would make it up to John later. There was surely a shop that sold swimming costumes somewhere up here.

No, I did not have a one-track mind!

֍


	2. Chapter 2

The Western Isles or Outer Hebrides are a smattering of islands that stretch over one hundred and twenty-five miles some three hours travel from the Scottish mainland. The largest island, Lewis and Harris, is as the name suggests split between the counties of Ross & Cromarty (Lewis) and Inverness-shire (Harris) while to the south lie the smaller islands of North Uist, Benbecula, South Uist and Barra. 

We sailed past Mull although we were too far to see the fabled nearby island of Iona, and it took some time (probably a long one as far as poor John was concerned) before we saw our destination of South Uist, a hundred square miles of mostly barren rock. Fortunately our destination was the town where the ship docked, Lochboisdale. It was a small but pleasant enough place and there was a fair-sized hotel where we were able to secure rooms. I insisted that John take some time to recover from his arduous voyage and that I would see our client alone, especially as I knew that he was not well. 

John was asleep before I left the room!

Mr. Alexander MacGarry was the owner of the local castle, unmistakeable as it loomed dark and foreboding above the small town although when I arrived I found it well-maintained and almost homely in its interior. Our client was only in his mid-forties but looked much older, and I did not need John with me to know that he was not long for this world. He was I knew head of the Clan whose name he bore and I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that that was part of his reason for requesting my help. A nurse fussed around him before he dismissed her and she scowled as she flounced away, although she did look at me in a way that would doubtless have annoyed a certain someone.

I would probably mention that to him in the course of time. By accident, of course. 

“Thank you for answering my summons, Mr. Holmes”, Mr. MacGarry said, his voice sounding as broken as he himself looked. “I am hoping that you may be able to assist me in keeping my Clan in one piece.”

“Your request sounded most urgent”, I said, “and fortunately I had just finished my most recent case so was able to attend.”

(That was mostly true. The shocking murder of seventeen innocent people had been resolved as much as had been possible but regrettably had I still had to contact the ever efficient Miss Bradbury to make sure that the deal I had secured had indeed been implemented. It was sad that one could not trust the word of people and especially those who claimed to be 'public servants', but that was the way of the world and probably always would be).

“My doctors say that I have as little as a week left, maybe less”, Mr. MacGarry said. “When I die the situation as it stands is most worrisome. I had but one son, my namesake Alexander, but he married against my wishes to a lady from Newfoundland and left Scotland to live with her. They had four children, all boys, before they both died in a shipping accident.”

I thought instinctively back to the _'Friesland'_. My host nodded.

“It was indeed an accident”, he said. “I thought that too and had it checked. His sister-in law who stepped in to raise the children agreed that the eldest boy, Hamish, be returned home so that he might succeed as Clan chief one day, and he now lives with me. But he is not yet five years of age and cannot inherit as of right.”

“So what is the problem?” I asked.

“I have two brothers”, he said. “Colin and Dermot, both some years younger than myself. Colin was always the wayward son in our family and when he reached eighteen a few years back he took himself off to the island of Barra south of here to work and live as a fisherman. His choice which I respected, but with my life drawing to its conclusion I need him back so he can govern in my grandson's name until he is of age.”

I looked at him shrewdly.

“And your brother Dermot is not so suited to that role?” I guessed. The man shuddered.

“It is not that I think he would ever harm young Hamish, especially with the boy having three brothers behind him”, he said. “But he is incredibly lazy and would I am sure mismanage things. There may not be much left by the time Hamish comes of age. I am hoping that you may be able to persuade Colin to return to the fold and keep his younger brother away from the levers of power. Dermot was thinking of going abroad himself but naturally he has delayed his departure to see how events transpire.”

“Delaying his own sailing to see if his ship comes in first”, I said dryly. “I know the sort; thankfully one of the less dangerous types that I tend to come across. How does one get to the island of Barra?”

The gentleman hesitated.

“There is a further problem”, he said. “When I realized how things were I sent both for your help and also decided to send someone to appeal to Colin to return, unlikely though I felt that to happen. My man returned yesterday to tell me that he is no longer in the port and he did not know whither he had gone.”

So my task had just got that much harder. I sighed inwardly.

“We had better start our search there anyway”, I said. “It is our only lead.”

“The boat that comes here continues there only two days a week”, Mr. MacGarry said, “I can however arrange for a local fisherman to take you there if that is acceptable?”

I thought wryly that it was acceptable for me but possibly not for someone else's stomach. I was increasingly glad that I had decided to pack so many stomach powders for this trip.

“Of course”, I smiled.

֍

Mercifully the rough seas of that day had calmed by the following morning, and after a long night of prolonged manly embracing that in no way, shape or form ever resembled something that started with the third letter of the alphabet and that rhymed with huddling, the two of us embarked on a small fishing-boat for Barra whose main port (and for that matter only town) of Castlebay lay about ten miles to the south. The islands were quite breathtaking in their scenic beauty and I thought it a pity that they were so isolated, although maybe that helped keep too many people from settling in the area and eventually spoiling what had brought them there.

It was not long before we were sailing into Castlebay which turned out to be an attractive little place. John had rolled his eyes when I had been able to converse with Constantine, the grizzled boat owner, in his native Gaelic tongue and he had told me that my best bet for locating someone who worked out of this place as a fisherman was the small port office, which turned out to be basically a railway platform shelter with aspirations. A fierce-looking Scotswoman who for some reason made me instinctively think 'Boadicea' stared suspiciously at us when we entered, and even though he had for some reason moved behind me I could actually feel John pouting when she smiled at me rather too much.

“MacGarry?” she said rifling through a set of papers and looking perplexed as she did so. “That'd be Colin who left a few weeks back. Good fellow.”

“Do you happen to know where he went?” I asked hopefully. I was beginning to realize why Mr. MacGarry's servant had come back from here empty-handed. The urge to flee from this woman was becoming ever stronger!

She did some more checking (at least that kept her busy) then, to my relief, nodded.

“He bought a half-share in a boat belonging to a cousin of his who works out of Scalasaig”, she said. “That's Alan MacGarry.”

“Where is Scalasaig?” John asked.

“Colonsay, best part of seventy miles south-east of here”, she said.

John coughed. It may or may not have sounded like a whine of terror.

“Might you know how we could best get there?” I asked. “I am trying to trace Mr. Colin MacGarry and the matter is of considerable urgency.”

She gave me another look. I was sorely tempted to start hiding behind John!

“Boat goes back to Lochboisdale then onto Oban”, she said, “and from there the boat out to Colonsay goes every few days. There's no other way there.” 

That was hopeless, I thought despairingly. I thanked her for her time and bowed out, almost fighting John in the doorway in my eagerness to be away from her. To my surprise the fisherman Constantine was still sat on the bench nearby smiling.

“Knew that Highland Mary would scare the living daylights out of you!” he chuckled. “Any luck?”

“All bad”, I sighed. “The gentleman we are seeking is several days' travel away on an island called Colonsay and every hour counts in our quest.”

The fellow scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. 

“Her Majesty is on Skye just now”, he said.

We both stared at him. That was relevant how, pray? He chuckled.

“That brother of yours you mentioned in your stories”, he said. “The older one, not the one everyone wants to slap. He could help you.”

“How could Luke help?” I asked wonderingly.

“'Cause whenever Her Maj is in the area there's always a warship along for the ride”, he said. “You could borrow that.”

The fellow was a genius!

֍


	3. Chapter 3

A hasty telegram to London later and it was arranged that _'H.M.S. Ajax'_ would indeed be made available for us. The ship was currently off the northern coast of Skye, could be with us in under five hours and would have us on Colonsay before the end of the day. Luke also very generously said that he was glad to help in return for my role in his meeting Sandy who.... my brother would have gone into more details but he said that holding a pen was damnably difficult just now and sitting down even more so!

I made a mental note to 'accidentally' drop off some more supplies from a certain Baker Street shop to Mr. Hunter. I mean, come on! There was sharing and then there was _'sharing'!_

 _'H.M.S. Ajax'_ was an old ironclad, having been reduced to the reserve some four years back and, most fortuitously as far as we were concerned, assigned to Scottish coastal patrols. She was capable of some thirteen knots (about fifteen miles per hour) and her captain duly put on best speed to land us safely in Scalasaig while there was still about an hour of light left. We would take the ferry back to Oban and home as the island was large enough to merit a telegraph office from which we could hopefully inform poor Mr. MacGarry of our success. If we were successful that was.

In normal circumstances I would have sought out the small hotel at that back of this non-metropolis and settled in for the night, especially as John was again looking a little queasy (the sea had been fairly calm but the ship's old design had made for a rather bumpy crossing). Unfortunately our client's state of health meant that we did not have that luxury and I sought out the port office here to see if I could find the missing Mr. Colin MacGarry. A young worried-looking fellow called Mr. Stuart Macduff checked through his small booklet for me.

“I am new so I do not yet know all the men”, he said apologetically. “Yes, here it is. The _'Seasigh'_ owned by Mr. Alan MacGarry and his cousin Colin. If you go along the harbour you will find a board with all the boats listed on it by the first set of steps; it has a wie roof-thing over it to keep off the rain. The men mark it every time they come in and out of port, so that should tell you if they are at sea just now.”

I thanked him for his help and tipped him (even John had been surprised as how much I had given the Lochboisdale fisherman but then he had been pivotal in what I hoped would be a successful resolution to this case) and we left. We duly found the board and fortunately the boat in question was in harbour so we walked along looking for it. And right at the end there she was, a brown-haired young fellow in his late twenties working at unloading her while a fellow a few years younger and with light-blond hair lounged lazily on the grass nearby smiling at his colleague doing all the work.

“Good afternoon?” I said politely. “I am looking for a Mr. Colin MacGarry.”

Both men looked at us uncertainly. It was the blond gentleman who spoke first.

“And why might you be looking for that gentleman, sir?” he asked cautiously.

“I bring a message from his brother Alexander, chief of the Clan”, I said. “Mr. MacGarry's presence would be welcome at Garry Castle. Urgently.”

The two men looked at each other in silence before the blond fellow spoke again.

“I doubt that Alex would want anyone around him just now”, he said dryly.

I had the thought that he knew of the clan chief's illness despite its recent advent and the dozens of miles of sea between them. Gossip really is the fastest thing after light.

“It is not for himself”, I said, “as he is well aware that his time in this world is short indeed. He is concerned that his younger brother Dermot will likely ruin the estate while he is in charge in the name of the chief's grandson who is but a boy. Clan loyalty demands the return of the middle brother to prevent this.”

“Clan loyalty did not stop my father turfing me out of house and home”, the blond fellow said sharply, “nor did it extend to either of my brothers speaking up for me. Not even to asking me back once the old man had gone off to Hades!”

“Your elder brother did check up on you”, I countered. “He wished to respect your right to live your life the way you wanted, but now the Clan itself needs you. Can you not see that?”

The fellow sighed.

“I am no leader of men, sir”, he said. “And I do not even know your name.”

“I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes”, I said, “and this is Doctor John Watson.”

Mr. Colin MacGarry, for surely it was he, looked pointedly at John.

“Then you are about to be witness to a rare thing, sir”, he said sounding almost bitter. “A failure on your friend's excellent record.”

“Col?”

His colleague on the boat had come onto the quayside. This had to be the cousin, Alan.

“You should go”, he said. “Lots of people depend on your brother for their livelihoods. You know Dermot; he will ruin them!”

Mr. Colin MacGarry's face darkened.

“It is you who do not understand Al, for all you are blood!” he almost growled. “I was forced out of house and home by those people. Family? I owe them nothing!”

“Yet I am family”, his cousin said, “and if I remember correctly I stood by you in _your_ hour of need.”

“Then you go and do it.”

We all stared at Mr. Colin MacGarry.

“What?” he said. “Al is brilliant at that sort of thing, far better than wasting his life on some daft boat. And he actually _likes_ people though Lord alone knows why. I would be useless at all that paperwork but am happy here. Why not?”

I looked at the two men and thought, why not indeed? It was clear that Mr. Colin MacGarry had little in the sense of duty and was at least prepared to recognize that failing, while his cousin clearly had plenty. And he was a MacGarry. Maybe... just maybe.

֍

Showing a merciful degree of foresight I had asked the commander of _'H.M.S. Ajax'_ to wait a few hours just in case. Mr. Alan MacGarry agreed to come with me and I doubt that John had ever loved me more when I said that he could stay behind on Colonsay. He went off to send some telegrams to Luke while the two of us headed back north-west.

We reached Lochboisdale again (I felt a little guilty at using a Royal Navy ship as a taxi but needs must) and we hurried to the post office where, thanks to the wonders of technology the documents Luke had sent me were ready. Then it was off to Garry Castle where poor Mr. Alexander MacGarry was waiting for us. Even in so short a time he seemed to have declined somewhat. I explained what had happened and he raised his eyebrows.

“Will it work?” he asked.

“By your adopting your cousin as your son it will enable you to make him acting Clan chief”, I said. “He cannot succeed to the title as he is not the closest blood male, but his right to act as your grandson's guardian cannot be challenged.”

“I promise to do my best by the boy, sir”, Mr. Alan MacGarry said stoutly.

The Clan chief looked at him for a moment then nodded.

“Where do I sign?”

֍

Mr. Alan MacGarry would have to return to Colonsay to sort matters out there, but he told me that he would be staying with his cousin until the end. I took the ship back to the smaller island, sleeping during the unhurried night journey. Even then I slept little, missing my wonderful love beside me.

John and I had a joyous reunion – we did not leave our hotel room all that morning – and as the ferry to the mainland was not until the following day we went for a walk around the little island. It was barely a mile across but the barren western coast was very different from the sheltered eastern one, the Atlantic rollers surging in relentlessly on the empty golden sands. If it had not been for the biting cold and remote location it would have made for a perfect seaside resort.

“It all worked out then?” John asked. I nodded.

“Mr. Alan MacGarry's position is impregnable now that he has been adopted”, I said. “All is well. And now let us have sex on the beach.”

He spluttered incoherently, then gasped as he turned to find me already undressing. 

“Here?” he said in a high-pitched voice. I grinned.

“We are hardly likely to be disturbed”, I said. “And I have always wanted to roll over among the waves on a sandy beach with the man I love.”

He nodded fervently and then contrived to almost fall over his own feet as he tried to remove his clothing. I was as usual naked far quicker and sprawled out on the golden sands as he whined in exasperation at his slowness. Then finally he was done and he almost fell on top of me before I began to roll him over, sand getting into all sorts of places where gentlemen do not usually have sand. But then we were hardly behaving as gentlemen.

He moaned as we finally came to a rest with me on top, then almost cried as I reached down and grabbed both our now erect cocks. 

“My own beautiful merman from the sea”, I praised. “Come!”

And he did, erupting with a cry that was hopefully lost amid the pounding waves otherwise it would surely have been heard back in Scalasaig. I followed him just seconds later and we lay there as the Atlantic rollers swept past us, happy and sated.

I was so damn lucky. Although that sand got _everywhere!_

֍

_Postscriptum: We arrived back in Oban to a sad telegram from Mr. Alan MacGarry saying that the Clan did indeed now have a new and young chief, and that Mr. Alexander MacGarry had gone to meet his Maker happy in the knowledge that affairs were settled. Mr. Alan MacGarry settled into life at the castle, the unreliable Dermot MacGarry soon after decamping to the New World. It was perhaps one of what John called my more 'ragged solutions' but I think it was the best that I could have achieved in the circumstances._

_Mr. Alan MacGarry's tenure of office was marked by one incident of note some four years later in which I further assisted him. He had by that time married a local lady when the death of an uncle of hers who had been in the Army led to the couple unexpectedly inheriting a large estate on the mainland which, sad to say, several of said uncle's relatives tried to contest. I was able to assist him in fending off their efforts and he used the income from that estate to establish a hospital for wounded soldiers in Inverness. He, his wife and six children moved there nearly a decade later when Hamish MacGarry came of age; indeed the hospital expanded and became rightly famous such that the new Clan chief's former guardian became Sir Alan MacGarry._

_And yes, there was a shop in Oban that sold swimsuits. Although the red-and-white striped horror that even John baulked at wearing did not survive to see London after another long night in a sleeper car when we got very little sleep!_

֍


End file.
